


Overstimulated

by hollowsbest



Series: Consequences [4]
Category: Original Work, The Weathervane Journal
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Undiagnosed Autism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowsbest/pseuds/hollowsbest
Summary: Jasper deals with a day of everything being Far Too Much but pushes on anyway.
Relationships: Jasper Heaton/India Akrett, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Consequences [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043850





	Overstimulated

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was overstimulated, I wrapped myself up in blankets and wrote this out to cope!  
> jasper grew up in the 90s, she didn't have the resources to get diagnosed let alone learn about autism at that point! and it's been over three decades and she's found a way to cope and mask and just writes it off as 'everybody has days where everything is Far Too Much'

Everything is loud. Impossibly loud. The sort of loud where you want to bury your ears under several pounds of sand to stop hearing things. It’s the kind of loud that precedes a ‘grit your teeth and bear it’ day. The usually quiet sounds of India making you both breakfast grates at your ears, and you’d quite like to murder the birds hanging about your window.  
As much as you want to hide in bed and pretend the world doesn’t exist, being that the world has decided it hates you and will do everything in its power to beat you into submission with light and sound, you have a job you can’t avoid. (Seeing as you live in the building.)

It’s painful, the process of dragging yourself from your bed’s softness and going about your morning routine. Everything has a sharp edge of Too Much, yet you force yourself onwards despite it.  
Things are slightly better when you’re dressed, the weight of your jacket comforts you. You can maybe handle the day now, if nothing extraneous happens.

You don’t speak a word through breakfast, your good morning turned into a silent kiss. India doesn’t expect you to talk, and she talks enough for both of you. You let it wash over you, her voice a soft blanket of fuzz over your ears, it makes it easier to ignore the grating noise of scraping cutlery. You eat gingerly to avoid making more noise.  
You don’t speak a word throughout the morning, the most you could consider ‘talking’ is the soft noise of affirmation you’d given Michael when he sent you to go find more pens. As ‘mysteriously’ they’d all run out of ink.  
You’re considering investing in earplugs, as even the office noises of the Weathervane are putting you on edge. You’re sure you’d be a lot more harsh with your words if it didn’t feel like a gargantuan effort to speak today. Your temper is short, and getting shorter.

By the afternoon, you still haven’t said a word and you want to make _everyone_ in this _fucking office_ to _**shut up**_. People will not stop making _noise_. You want to tear your hair and ears out, and your eyes for good measure. You’re about to go rip JD’s mouse from his hand to get him to _stop fucking **clicking**_. You don’t, but it’s a close call.  
You ditch early, it’s not like Heather can fire you. Nobody comes this late in the day with a case anyway. You’ve sat through the portion of the day that’s expected of you, you’re done.

You almost flee up the stairs, returning to your apartment with all the grace of a headless chicken that’s still got its head. You crave your bed and the many pillows stacked on it.  
You bury yourself under it all, barely remembering to kick your shoes off before crawling into bed, still wrapped up in your jacket.  
It’s dark. It’s quiet. All you can hear is your rapid breathing. And ever so slowly, it gets softer. Less harsh and panicked. You let yourself sink into the bed, letting your tense muscles slowly relax under the gentle pressure.

India finds you hours later, bringing a sliver of light into your dark cave. She joins you, and you speak for the first time that day.  
“I love you.”  
You fall asleep in her arms.


End file.
